


cold shower, hot skin (you're still here)

by blue_slate



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Porn with Feelings, beta'd but we die like men anyway, but with feelings, the Joel Got Punched Not Killed Universe, the classic oopsie doopsie we're hooking up fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:14:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25002229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_slate/pseuds/blue_slate
Summary: abby and ellie stop at an old gym off the patrol route after running into infected. when there's a functioning shower, but only enough water for one... well the obvious solution is to share, isn't it?ORthe "there's only enough water for one of us so lets shower together uh oh now we're banging" fic
Relationships: Abby/Ellie (The Last of Us)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 281





	cold shower, hot skin (you're still here)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [killingcve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/killingcve/gifts).



> thanks to my bitch killingcve for beta'ing this work!!

“In here!” Ellie shouts, her arm looped around Abby’s waist to try and keep her up as Abby twists around. There’s the  _ bang  _ of Abby’s gun going off, and Ellie fucking  _ prays _ that the bullet drives home in the last infected. They’ve been given hell by shamblers and clickers for the past  _ hour _ — Ellie’s beyond fucking exhausted.

And to make matters worse, Abby’s jacket got ripped open by the claws of a damn stalker and grazed her skin and shirt like it was made of air. So, Abby is bleeding onto Ellie, and they’re running in the snow. 

But after the next bend, there’s a safe place that Ellie knows about. It’s one of the unfrequented patrol stops, and the only one that has functioning water lines. Ellie hopes that there’s still some left. 

“One—” Abby grunts. Another bullet fires off. Causing Ellie’s ear to ring. “Got you, fucker!” 

“Less shooting, more running!” Ellie says as they come to a gate that surrounds the perimeter of a building. Ellie perks her ears, and hears no infected. Ellie slams her hand against the gate, pushing it wide enough for Abby and her to slip through, before Abby shoves it closed. 

There’s a visible wince and audible groan as Abby’s hand presses against her chest, where there’s a cut long dried over surrounded by mottled bruising. 

“C’mon, let’s get inside,” Ellie says as she switches the mag of her handgun, tossing the empty one aside. She stuffs the gun into her holster before reaching out for Abby to help, but the taller woman swats her away, limping forward miserably. “Damn it, Abby.” 

“Not my fucking fault a stalker got me,” Abby grumbles, though Ellie has to strain her ears to hear it in the winds. On their way to the front door, Abby puts a careful hand on Ellie’s shoulder. “Did you get hurt?” 

“A few nicks, but I’m fine. You’re not, though,” Ellie says, pulling off the wooden bar that’s been placed on the front of the door. It takes a few pulls, but it rips off eventually, and they make their way inside. 

Their flashlights turn on, and Ellie takes a moment to shove a cabinet in front of the door, as to prevent anyone from getting in. 

“What is this place?” Abby asks, and Ellie gives the door a good tug just for good measure. 

“An old gym,” Ellie replies, and she catches the look of interest on Abby’s face. She points a finger at the bigger woman and speaks, “Don’t even think about it. You’re too hurt to even lift a five pound dumbbell.” 

“Well,  _ excuse _ me,” Abby mutters. 

“This way, dumbass,” Ellie says, gesturing with her hand for Abby to follow. 

Most of the equipment has long since rusted— the guide rods no longer glide smoothly, and the metal weight plates have lost their shine and instead have fallen to oxidation. Any of the dumbbells that were good enough have been towed to Jackson; the rest are broken and left here to sit and collect dust. 

“Must’ve been great to workout in a place like this in the old world,” Abby muses, followed by a hiss that must come from tugging something. 

“Keep it in your pants, Anderson. Up here,” Ellie says, gesturing to the stairs. “There are showers upstairs, second left in the hall. I’m going to check the water to see if there’s any there.” 

Abby’s hand rests on the railing of the stairwell, but upon closer inspection, she’s leaning heavily against it. Abby’s gaze flickers in the dark. “Need help?” 

“No.” 

Abby doesn’t protest as Ellie disappears into the maintenance room of the gym. With a quick sway of her flashlight, she sweeps the room of any potential danger before hobbling to the water tank. Running from infected has no doubt taken a toll— Ellie thinks she pulled her hamstring from running that hard. It’s a wonder she’s still walking. 

Regardless, she hunches down by the water tank. She unscrews the lid to peer in, and sighs. In the well over three thousand gallon tank, there’s only a foot’s worth of water at the bottom. Ellie can’t ask for more— this is all they get. She’s lucky there’s water at all. 

After she screws the cap back on tightly, Ellie heads up to the second floor of the gym. The gym is far off enough from the patrol routes that it hasn’t become an established site, but it’s known to most of the regular patrol units. Well, the ones that can hold a secret. If people knew there was another location with a water tank, who knows what would happen?

Ellie trudges down the hall, the weight of her pack and guns on her back suddenly feeling very heavy, and exhaustion hits her like a brick to the head. How  _ lovely _ . 

When she pushes the door open to the shower rooms, Ellie finds Abby sitting down on one of the benches, a hand on her gun, and constantly scanning the room. 

“There’s a light switch,” Ellie says dryly, flipping the switch next to the door. A singular light flickers to life, helping the room feel more alive. 

“How was I supposed to know that?” Abby shoots back, and her lips purse tightly together as she turns her head. 

Ellie lumbers to the bench, pulling the pack off her shoulders. She pulls off her jacket and throws it on top, before turning to Abby. “There’s enough water for one shower, I think. You go ahead.”

Abby shakes her head. “No, you’re covered in muck. You need it.” 

“Says the one bleeding from numerous places.” 

Abby holds up a medkit. “I can handle it. Shower.” 

“You’re hurt. The water will help,” Ellie retorts, gesturing her hand to Abby’s broken jacket. 

Still, Abby shakes her head. “You—” 

“Okay, fine,” Ellie silences Abby. “We’ll shower together. Problem solved.” 

Abby’s mouth twitches, before she exhales. “Fine. Alright. But just so you know, I’m taking my bra off. The fucking thing broke.” 

Ellie turns around and pulls off her shirt. “Not a problem.”

Abby makes a noise that Ellie doesn’t quite register, so she just slides off her pants. They’re just friends. Well, realistically, they’re strangers turned enemies turned somewhat-cordial-neighbors. Not friends. That isn’t the right word. 

What is the right word for someone like Abby? Ellie briefly runs through her mental dictionary of words in search for the right description. Abby isn’t a friend, yet they know too much about each other not to be. After all, Joel keeps forcing them to go on patrols together, in order for them to become ‘friendly’ and ‘come to an understanding’.

_ What’s there to come to an understanding about someone who punched your face in, Joel? _

Regardless, Ellie does what she is told. To do anything other would be earning a stern talking-to from Maria, or even worse, being benched from patrols. Being benched from the  _ one _ thing she enjoys doing around here is like sitting in purgatory. 

Ellie glances over her shoulder hesitantly. Abby is still struggling with her backpack and jacket, enough for Ellie to pity her just a  _ little _ bit. If Ellie can (begrudgingly) admit, Abby’s a decent person, if she can look past her punching Joel. 

Then again, is anyone really a good person these days?

“Need help?” Ellie asks, scratching her tattoo by instinct. It’s a comfort thing. 

The sound of rustling stops, then there’s a quiet sigh. “Yeah. I do.” 

Ellie turns around, and Abby averts her gaze to the ground immediately.  _ At least Abby has some modicum of respect.  _ As gently as possibly, Ellie helps Abby pull off the straps of the backpack, laying it to the side. As bad as Ellie feels from running in with the infected, Abby is far worse for wear. The sleeve seams of her jacket are shredded, making way for gashes to shine slick in the flickering light. 

“Fuck, dude,” Ellie says, and Abby laughs lightly. “How did this even happen?” 

“Stalkers do damage,” Abby replies. She clicks her tongue. “I would’ve been toast if you hadn’t helped, so… thanks.” 

Ellie can’t help the way her eyebrows raise in surprise. “Abby Anderson, thanking me? What kind of parallel universe have I sunk into?” 

Abby might not be able to move much due to her injuries, but she manages to slap Ellie’s thigh. Ellie snorts, and slowly, helps Abby get the torn jacket off. 

It’s a slow process, getting Abby’s shirt off, and Ellie can’t help but feel the tiniest bit bad when she sees the seemingly endless amount of tiny scratches littered around the gigantic cuts that are definitely going to need stitches. 

When Abby’s shirt is off and to the side, Ellie places her palm on Abby’s back. Abby visibly tenses, her muscles seizing. Between all of those miniscule scratches and bloody wounds, and under the flecks of dried blood that come off so easily, there are freckles. Near the base of Abby’s spine, there’s a dimple— Ellie wonders why she hasn’t noticed that dimple before. 

Blinking, Ellie pulls her hand away.  _ What was she thinking? _

Quickly, Ellie suggests, “Get your pants off so we can shower.” 

Naturally, Abby is quick to retort, “Are you always so eager to get girls in their underwear?” 

Ellie blanches, before sputtering, “ _ No _ ! Shut up.” 

Abby laughs, and Ellie’s face burns red as she turns to one of the shower stalls. She pulls the curtain to the side— this is the only functioning stall left. The others have either been broken, their parts stolen, or rusted beyond any repair. Thankfully, it’s also the cleanest stall. 

Ellie turns the dials, ignoring the squeaking noise she gets in return. The water that shoots out is cold, but hopefully, the backup generator will kick in and heat it up. If not, Ellie will suck up the frigidness. When Ellie glances back, Abby is right there, standing in a pair of black boy shorts and no bra. 

_ Do not look, do not look, Ellie Williams, turn your fucking head around.  _ Ellie hopes she can pawn off the blush on her face as the cold’s fault and not Abby’s bulging muscles’ fault. After a few seconds, Ellie slips in, the water a mix of lukewarm and freezing cold, but Ellie will take it. 

“C’mon, it’s not awful,” Ellie says, pulling out her hair tie and slipping it onto her wrist. She can deal with the tangles later— she just needs to get infected blood out of her hair. Abby is silent— too silent. It’s enough for Ellie to glance. “You good?” 

“There’s… there’s a bite on your neck,” Abby says, like she’s only just noticed it. Ellie smoothes her hand over her neck as she turns back around; it’s not a bad one, more like a nip. Should be gone by tomorrow, hopefully. Abby swallows. “I keep forgetting you’re immune. I  _ shouldn’t _ forget that you’re immune.” 

Ellie swallows, stepping to the side. “Just… get in, Abby.” 

Abby shifts to face the stall wall, getting under the spray of water. Ellie does the same, their backs brushing lightly against each other as they share the water. The water pooling at their feet is a mucky mix of brown mud and red blood, and Ellie tries not to think about Abby’s glorious expanse of muscles being less than an inch away from her.

Abby is quiet as they shower, and Ellie would be concerned. Scratch that; she’s a little worried. Even if it does hurt to admit. 

“Are you okay?” Ellie whispers, barely louder than the din of the water. 

Shifting happens behind Ellie; Abby’s back brushes hers barely, and Abby replies, “No. Fucking hurts like shit.”

Ellie shuts her eyes, and whispers, “Do you… do you need help?” 

Silence. Ellie almost thinks that Abby has disappeared, until Abby says, “I could use a little help.” 

“That’s twice, you know.” Ellie says, slowly turning around. Abby is still facing the wall, her hair in a tangled, wet braid. “That you’ve asked for help.” 

“Let me lick my wounded pride in peace, Williams.”

Ellie can’t help but laugh, and instinctively, she reaches out to Abby’s long braid— it’s almost like a sigil of survival, with how long it is. Gently, Ellie takes the band of the braid out, sliding it onto her other wrist, and begins undoing the tangles of Abby’s braid. 

It’s a comforting silence that follows, with nothing but the noise of the weak shower to keep them company. Ellie finishes undoing the braid, laying the hair over the thick muscle of Abby’s shoulder, before smoothing her hand over some smudges of dirt. Abby holds her hand out— a rag, fashioned from her ripped t-shirt. Ellie takes it wordlessly. 

“If it hurts, tell me,” Ellie says, slowly moving the rag over the worst of the cuts. Abby tenses. 

“I can handle it.” Abby braces her hands against the wall, and it’s a subtle flex. Ellie is suddenly enraptured with the muscular anatomy laid out before her; there’s a dip where Abby’s arms meet her shoulders, and the curve of her spine is godly. 

_ Williams, shut up.  _

Ellie forces her gaze back to Abby’s wounds. Most of them have dried over and started scabbing, save for the bigger ones on Abby’s shoulder blade and side. Those will be stitched up sooner or later. Hopefully sooner. 

“What does it feel like?” 

Ellie perks her head up. “Hm?” 

“What does it feel like to breathe in spores and not be affected?” There’s a tone of genuine curiosity in Abby’s voice. If Ellie didn’t recognize that curiosity, she would’ve taken the question to be a jab at her immunity. But no… Abby’s just curious.

“It feels stuffy,” Ellie says, focusing on cleaning pieces of dirt and gravel out of a scratch, one by one. “Like you’re breathing through a ball of cotton, and can’t get all the air with one breath.” 

“But you can still breathe?” 

“Yeah.”  _ Can’t say the same for everyone else who breathes in spores.  _ “I can.” 

A beat. 

“I used to hate you for being immune.” 

Ellie’s eyebrow twitches. “Valid opinion.”

“Shut up, let me talk,” Abby says, looking over her shoulder. She sighs, shifting her hands on the stall wall. “I used to hate you because you were immune and you had the cure. You were going to make a vaccine that would save everybody.” 

Automatically, Ellie frowns. “Believe me, I wanted that too.” 

“Wanted that feeling like you mattered?” 

Ellie has to bite down on her lip. Her hand freezes on Abby’s back, and it’s clear that a nerve, buried deep down and repressed, has been struck. Ellie inhales shakily. She wanted so  _ bad _ to matter. She wanted to matter to something, to  _ something. _ She didn’t—  _ doesn’t _ — want to not matter. 

She doesn’t want to fade into the black abyss of oblivion when she dies. She doesn’t want to sink into an endless tar pit. She doesn’t want her name to erode. 

Simply put, Ellie wants to matter. To something. To someone. To  _ anything.  _

Ellie doesn’t even realize that Abby is facing her— bare chest and all— until she blinks back into focus. The line of her mouth quivers at the rush of emotions hitting her square in the chest, doubled by the physical pain and exhaustion her body and mind is in. Abby frowns for the briefest second, and Ellie is yanked into a hug. There’s no time to think about the implications— Abby is hugging her so tightly that Ellie feels stifled, but… it’s pleasant. Comforting. 

Hugging back feels so natural, despite the obvious tensions that linger between them. Ellie inhales shakily, pushing the tears that are forming at the corner of her eyes. Would it matter? The water from the showerhead is bearing down on them; Ellie’s tears would disappear in the liquid anyway. 

“I didn’t mean to bring up old feelings,” Abby whispers. “I didn’t mean to bring up the past.” 

She’s genuine.

But she’s also braless. 

Ellie’s short circuits at the overwhelming amount of skin pressed against her own and emotions rushing through her.

She tilts her head to look up at Abby, who somehow looks like Athena, even in the shitty lighting. Droplets of water rush on Abby’s face, down the sharp jawline that Ellie has only stared at a little  _ too _ often. Abby is looking— no,  _ admiring _ Ellie, with a gentleness that Ellie’s never seen in her. 

Ellie briefly thinks that Athena would definitely choose Abby in a game of war. 

“I still haven’t forgiven you for hurting Joel,” Ellie says, her jaw flexing. Abby swallows, her eyes glancing down out of shame.

“Our emotions feed into our mania, and my biggest regret will be falling into my rage like I did,” Abby says, her hands coming to rest on Ellie’s forearms. “I thought it was the answer. It wasn’t. I know forgiveness isn’t immediate. Pain lingers.” 

_ Pain lingers.  _

Ellie raises her hands to cup Abby’s face, as the need to touch Abby’s jawline is too great. Abby is surprised, if the subtle jerk of her eyebrow is any indication. 

She feels it. Deep in her chest, settled in her tired bones, there’s a spark. Something small, so barely there, that Ellie hasn’t felt it so deeply until this very moment. 

There’s only one way for that spark to bloom into a fire. 

Ellie has to stand on her tippy toes. She doesn’t mind. In one sweep, Ellie claims Abby’s lips in hers with a kiss so gentle that even the water seems to push them closer together. There’s a slight gasp of surprise from Abby, but then she’s kissing back. And to Ellie, it might just be the best feeling in the world. 

They part for a second, and Ellie mumbles against Abby’s lips, “Fall into mania with me.” 

Abby chuckles lightly, then kisses Ellie with all her fervor. Her wounds seem like the last thing on her mind, as she leans into Ellie. Ellie feels swirls of lust in her mind as she palms Abby’s broad shoulders, careful to not touch the gashes, before moving to her biceps. 

Her lips part ever so slightly, and Abby takes the invitation, their tongues meeting to make what feels like molten lava. The shower may have run cold, but the heat of their skin makes the stall feel like a hot summer day. Abby moans— a low vibrato that shakes Ellie to her core, and Ellie drinks it in like she hasn’t drank in days. The callouses of Abby’s hands are everywhere on Ellie’s skin, roaming from her hips, thumbing the line of her soaked panties, and roving up her spine, tracing over every freckle that’s there. 

Ellie gasps when Abby shifts her leg to sit between Ellie’s, the firm muscle sliding against Ellie’s core. It’s a feeling that shoots to the very bottom of her stomach, burning hotter than the sun. Abby smiles against her lips— smug and frankly  _ very _ annoying. 

“Let me take care of you,” Abby whispers, before kissing the air out of Ellie again. Then— “Please?”

If Ellie thought her brain was short circuiting before, it’s fucking  _ frying _ right now. Ellie has to remember how to physically breathe with the way Abby is holding her gaze so intensely. 

A paroxysm of lust hits Ellie so profoundly that her only answer is  _ yes.  _

Ellie jerks her head, and her mind is swimming in the feeling of Abby’s soft lips against her own, a pure contradiction to the roughness of Abby’s calloused, broad hands. Those hands move at a tantalizingly slow pace, and Ellie feels like she might burn up in a cloud of steam if Abby doesn’t fucking  _ touch  _ her. 

“ _ Please _ ,” Ellie hisses through their joined lips, and Abby complies, so very easily. 

Fingers come to rest at the apex of Ellie’s thighs, and she swears she sees stars. Abby holds her gently as she pushes away the soaked fabric of Ellie’s panties, and Ellie has to pull her head away and bite down on her arm to keep herself from crying out as a finger enters smoothly. 

Abby kisses the shell of Ellie’s ear, with a crooning whisper of “Be loud.” 

Unleashed, a moan echoes around the stall walls. Ellie cranes her head back, allowing Abby to seal her lips on the hollow of the redhead's neck. The water rushes between them, their skin sliding deliciously against each other. 

A cacophony of moans bounce in the room as Abby thrusts her finger at a pace that leaves Ellie constantly breathless. As good as that burning in her core feels, Ellie needs  _ more.  _

So she tells Abby just that. 

“More,  _ please _ ,” Ellie says, and Abby pulls her mouth off of Ellie’s neck. Her lips are slick from water and swollen from the heady passion of their earlier kissing. Abby’s eyes are molten brown, swirling with lust that freckles her iris with gold. Ellie’s lips shake as she whispers again, “More.” 

“Tell me to stop if you need me to,” Abby says, her hand drawn away from Ellie’s core. Ellie braces as two long, dextrous fingers slide in, stretching her warmth. It’s dancing the line of pleasure and pain, and Ellie keeps her gaze locked on Abby as the taller woman thrusts in and out, her palm hitting Ellie’s clit every single time. It’s a spindle of pleasure every single time. 

They have time. The snow outside suggests that they’ll be here well into the night, as Ellie can faintly hear the snow tapping on the window through her pleasure and the sound of water rushing on them. Ellie’s head is empty save for the feeling of electrifying pleasure that courses through her bloodstream with every thrust of Abby’s fingers. 

Abby’s muscles tense in her arm, and Ellie can’t peel her eyes away from Abby’s face. They’re stuck staring at each other as Ellie is brought closer to the edge. Abby looks mystified by Ellie, and Ellie feels much the same as she grabs Abby by the neck with quivering hands and kisses her so hard. 

The mix of Abby’s tongue mingling with her own and Abby railing her beyond belief is too much. Ellie feels it, a wave of golden pleasure that rushes through her, starting from her feet until she feels it blooming in her chest. Abby is drinking Ellie in like she’s drinking in the sun itself. Her hands are everywhere, goosebumps flaring on Ellie’s skin, it’s too much—

Ellie erupts. 

A long, drawn out moan escapes from Ellie’s lips as that golden wave hits her. She clutches to Abby’s good shoulder, her cunt tingling as Abby slows her pace down to a stop, her palm brushing against her clit lightly. 

“C’mon, breathe, angel,” Abby says—  _ commands _ — Ellie. Ellie inhales sharply, still shaking, her legs feel like pure jelly. Abby is holding her up, her muscles tensed with the effort. “Good girl.” 

The shower shuts off. It’s enough to snap them both out of their fragile reverie. 

Abby looks up to the water dripping down, the remnants of whatever water was left in the tank. Then she peers down at Ellie, raising her fingers to her mouth to briefly lick them over. “It was good while it lasted, huh?” 

Ellie’s face burns. “Shut up. You still need stitches.” 

For the third time, Abby says, “I’ll need help with that.” 

~~~~~

Abby stays perfectly still as Ellie slides the needle in and out of Abby’s back. It’s a repeated pinching feeling, and Abby doesn’t mind it. Ellie presses her hand gently on Abby’s shoulder to suture up the last major gash, and Abby shifts and rests her hands on her thighs. 

There’s a particularly hard pinch, followed by a quiet “Sorry.” from Ellie. 

Abby can’t stop thinking about the shower. She can’t stop thinking about the way Ellie melted into her palms like she was simply made of putty. The way Ellie moaned right into her ear, the filthiest and most addictive noise she’s ever heard. 

Abby sighs. She would be lying if she said she didn’t want it to happen again. 

“Alright,” Ellie says softly. “All patched up.” 

Abby rolls her shoulder lightly, testing the strength of the sutures. They hold, and Abby looks over her shoulder with a shy, pensive smile. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” Ellie walks around and grabs her bag and jacket. “There’s a room, down the hall. You can rest, I’ll go check the perimeter.” 

Ellie nears the door, and Abby twists to look, despite the faint pain. “Ellie, wait.” 

“What?” Ellie has a hand on the door already, and she refuses to meet Abby’s gaze. 

“Stay,” Abby whispers. 

Ellie’s jaw tenses, and her hand tightens on the knob of the door. With no response, Ellie leaves. 

“Fuck,” Abby hisses. It’s worthless to try and go after her, not when she’s sore beyond belief and her mind is crying out for rest. With a sigh of resignation, Abby picks up her pack and guns, and hobbles to the room Ellie mentioned earlier. 

There’s a singular bed made from a couch with a few pillows and a single blanket. It isn’t much, but it’s good enough. Abby puts her pack to the side and collapses onto the bed, an exhale of relief slipping through her lips. Abby folds her good arm behind her head, and stares at the ceiling. 

What fucking possessed her to fuck Ellie? Abby bites the inside of her cheek, the image of Ellie falling apart in her hands flashing behind her eyes, the sound of her moan echoing in Abby’s head. She feels like her mind is in shambles. 

Abby feels cold, and grabs the blanket with a grunt. It’s thin, and the fabric is scratchy, but it’ll do. 

She closes her eyes, knowing that she’s safe with Ellie securing the grounds, but she keeps her handgun only inches away. 

However, her sleep is fruitless, because minutes later Ellie is opening the door, her hair covered in melting snow, and her jacket damp. Abby sits up to the best of her ability to watch as Ellie drops all of her weapons, one by one. 

“Good?” Abby asks. Ellie nods, crouched down by her bag. Abby swallows before she frowns. “Ellie, are you okay?” 

Ellie’s shoulders are shaking, and Abby realizes quickly that Ellie is crying. Abby swings her legs on the couch-bed, and stands up before limping to the smaller girl. 

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” Abby says, putting her hands on Ellie’s shoulders, only for Ellie to whirl around and snap away. Abby jerks her hands back. “Okay, no touching, got it.” 

Ellie looks shocked, then she’s crying again. Unexpectedly, she wraps her arms around Abby’s waist, kneeled down on her knees whereas Abby is standing. Abby keeps her hands raised— does Ellie want to be touched?

“I just—” Ellie sobs. “I’ve hated myself for so long.” She hiccups. “My purpose was taken from me.” 

Without hesitating, Abby says, “You have a purpose here, Ellie. You have a purpose in Jackson. Jackson wouldn't be the same without you, and you know that.” 

Ellie inhales shakily. “It doesn’t feel like that.” 

Slowly, Abby lowers herself to a knee, careful not to put too much weight on her bad side. Ellie lets go of her, only for her hands to find solid purchase in Abby’s shoulders. Her eyes are shimmering with broken hope, and Abby’s heart wilts in her chest. Carefully, Abby puts her hands on Ellie’s wrists. 

“Listen to me, Williams,” Abby begins, seriousness in her quiet tone. “You might feel like your purpose, why you felt like you mattered, was taken away from you, but I fully fucking believe that you were destined for something better than that, okay?” 

Ellie’s lip quivers, and Abby moves her head forward on instinct, pressing her lips to Ellie’s. She finds the taste of salty tears prominent on Ellie’s lips, and Abby kisses it away. 

At first, Ellie is unreceptive— Abby thinks she’s crossed a line. Ellie’s grip on her shoulders tighten, and then she’s kissing back with a passion that’s unmatched. Against Ellie’s lips, Abby mumbles, “C’mere.” 

She gathers Ellie into her arms, squeezing her tight. This line that they’ve broken together, this boundary that they’ve crossed over… Abby doesn’t know what to call it. She doesn’t know what to call that feeling of lightness in her chest whenever Ellie’s lips are on hers. She doesn’t know what to call it, but she doesn’t feel the need to define it. 

“Let’s rest, okay?” Abby says once they’ve finally parted. With a small nod from Ellie, they move from the floor to lay down on the bed, and Abby finds that with Ellie pressed against her front, she falls asleep easier than she ever has. 

  
  



End file.
